Just The Way You Are
by Irish American 67
Summary: A Mitchsen oneshot based on the song by Bruno Mars.


Just The Way You Are

**AN: So, kinda writer's blocked on my other stories, so I decided to fire off another musical Pitch Perfect oneshot. This one, however, is NOT Bechloe. No, this one is Mitchsen, people, because there really aren't enough Mitchsen fics out there, and it's sad because Beca and Aubrey have the whole "frenemy" chemistry thing going for them that really could give them a big push in this direction. So, obviously, this one is based off of Bruno Mars' "Just The Way You Are", which I thought would work especially for Beca and Aubrey because of the scene in the movie where the Bellas are singing in the pool, and Aubrey chooses this song. It almost feels like she's trying to send a message to Beca in choosing this song, but, you know, definitely reading too much into it since Beca and Jesse ended up together. BOOOOOOOO!**

_Oh, her eyes, her eyes_

_Make the stars look like they're not shining._

_Her hair, her hair_

_Falls perfectly without her trying._

_She's so beautiful,_

_And I tell her every day._

_I know, I know_

_When I compliment her, she won't believe me_

_And it's so, it's so_

_Sad to think that she don't see hat I see_

_But every time she asks me "Do I look okay?"_

_I say..._

* * *

><p>Those startling green orbs haunted me for the longest time. I'd see them everywhere. At Bella's rehearsal. On the front lawn, when I'm mixing. Whenever I closed my eyes, I'd see them. They wove themselves in and out of my dreams. Mostly in, very rarely out. At the start of the year, I'd assumed it was because of my rivalry with the owner of those eyes. I thought it was because I couldn't stand her, and because the feelings were mutual.<p>

If I only knew how mutual the feelings were between us. I just had the wrong feelings in mind.

But that changed when I realized the truth. One night, once the green-eyed girl finally released some of her perpetual need for control, and gave me the reigns to create our new arrangement for the ICCA Finals, I finally saw the green eyes in my dreams for what they were. They weren't cold, calculating, or judgemental at all. No, they were warm, bright, inviting, caring, even _loving_. But they told a tale of a girl who'd been hurt before. Possibly many times before.

"Hey, babe." I say sweetly, kissing the top of Aubrey's head as I sit down on the couch next to her. She smiles and leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder.

She sighs, rather than saying "hi" back, but that's okay. Because that sigh, that perfect, amazing sigh of contentment, tells me everything all at once. I'm amazed by how things worked out for us. We definitely had a rocky start, and I know it's mostly my fault. I used to push away everyone who ever cared about me, as my friend, Jesse, pointed out one day. I'm not really sure when that started, but I do know when it ended.

I kept everyone at an arm's length, maybe even two. And to be clear, that's a normal-sized person's arm's length, not _my_ arm's length. But in the case of Aubrey, something made me keep her further away than most people. I was constantly criticizing her, badgering her with comments about how she was stuck-up, controlling, and the set list she so closely adhered to was old, worn, and would get us nowhere.

Really, I guess I have Jesse to thank for how well everything worked out. If he hadn't set me straight about how I treat people, I never would have walked into that Bella's rehearsals to apologize, Aubrey wouldn't have released and given me the song choice, and we wouldn't have reached the understanding that made me realize how I really felt about her. I, Beca Mitchell, am in love with Aubrey Posen.

We sit on the couch for a long time, comfortable silence surrounding us as we watch tv. I don't like movies. I never have, probably never will. The endings are way too predictable. But tv isn't movies. With tv shows, most of them, anyway, they're always throwing in those spur-of-the-moment plot twists that leave you guessing. Any time you think you have it figured out who the bad guy is, or one of the characters' motives for doing something, they throw you a curve ball that totally throws you for a loop and sets you up to watch the next episode just so you can see where they're going to take it.

Finally, my watch beeps, and we groan, because we have to start getting ready. I'm finally going to introduce Aubrey to my dad and step-monster as my girlfriend. I don't see it as a big deal, because neither of them are that big a part of my life, but to Aubrey, it's a _very_ big deal. And it's got her so nervous, she almost stress-vomited when I told her we were meeting them for dinner a week ago.

We both head to our room to get dressed. I throw on a black dress that goes down to mid-thigh. It was a compromise with Aubrey. She wanted me to wear a dress, I wanted to wear jeans and a t-shirt. So, we compromised, and Aubrey won.

Aubrey stresses for, like, thirty minutes over what to wear before I finally grab one of her dresses, a blue one that hangs loosely around her shins, and I hand it to her, saying to wear that one. It's my favorite. I love seeing her in it, because she always wears these brown boots that go up under the dress, and it's just so... _Aubrey_. It's perfect for her.

She sighs, and it's different from the happy, contented sigh that she gave earlier, on the couch. This one is full of nerves and apprehension, so I walk over and pull her into my arms.

"Listen, Bree. Trust me, you look perfect in that dress. You look perfect in anything you just happen to throw on, and even though I really don't care what they think, they're going to love you. Not as much as I do, of course, but they're going to love you." I say before tilting her head down and standing on my toes to kiss the top of her head again. I can smell her sweet shampoo, the intoxicating scent that comes off of her long, flowing, silky golden hair that doesn't ever even need to be touched because of how perfectly it falls down her back, but she stresses over it, anyway.

My girl has been hurt before. First, by her father, who'd always wanted a son, so he raised her as a son. Now that I think about it, maybe he's the reason she's into girls, having pounded it into her head from birth. Not literally, of course. He's not _that_ big of an asshole. Then, she was hurt by other girls growing up. The popular kind who liked to put other girls down because they just might be as pretty, if not even prettier than they themselves were. Those cheerleader bitches who would constantly belittle her because of how beautiful she is, setting her down a self-destructive road that lead to her constant stress-vomiting. Even the seemingly nice girls, who took an interest in Aubrey as a friend, or even more than a friend. They hurt her, too. Tried to change her, to mold her into their idea of the perfect friend or girlfriend. When all she really needed was for someone to want her to be who she really is.

And all of those people who have hurt her in the past are the reason why, even now, four months into our relationship, any time I tell her I love her, or that she looks beautiful, she just scoffs and waves it off like I'm just saying it to get into her panties. Some part of her, deep down, knows that I mean what I say, which I'm guessing is why she's still with me, rather than getting mad and pushing me away, but the dominant part of her mind still tells her that I'm using her for sex, and that I'm lying to her to get it.

"Do I really look okay?" She asks for the third time as I lock the apartment door and we start walking down the steps to the car.

I sigh and chuckle to myself, thinking. How can I get her to believe me this time? Music. Music is the only thing that ever gets through to her. Because, with music, you're baring your soul with your words, leaving yourself open. You can't lie with music.

So, I open my mouth and start to sing to her.

_When I see your face,_

_There's not a thing that I would change._

_'Cause you're amazing_

_Just the way you are._

_And when you smile,_

_The whole world stops and stares for a while._

_'Cause, girl, you're amazing_

_Just the way you are._

She smiles and laughs like I'm a big goof, but she has tears of joy in her eyes as I finish, then pull her in for a soft kiss up against the car.

* * *

><p><em>Her lips, her lips,<em>

_I could kiss them all day, if she'd let me._

_Her laugh, her laugh,_

_She hates, but I think it's so sexy._

_She's so beautiful,_

_And I tell her every day._

_Oh, you know, you know, you know_

_I'd never ask you to change._

_If perfect's what you're looking for,_

_Then just stay the same._

_So, don't even bother asking "Do I look okay?"_

_You know I'll say..._

* * *

><p>Our lips meet again after I pull into a parking space just outside the restaurant. I don't even bother pulling away as I turn the car off and remove the key from the ignition. I drop the keys in my purse, still kissing her, and I trail my tongue along her lower lip, smiling as her mouth automatically opens to accommodate me. Our tongues meet and slide along each other, then around each other, as if they were dancing. That's the way it always is when we kiss. Whether the kiss is hurried, rough and passionate, or soft, slow and relaxed, it's always a dance to music only we can hear. And damn it if I don't groan at the feeling of loss when she finally pulls away for air, and I miss the feeling of her lips on mine. If I had my way, we'd never leave the apartment at all, and our lips would always be connected.<p>

"Beca, we've got to get inside. Your dad and stepmom are probably already in there, waiting." She breathes, obviously missing my lips as much as I miss hers.

I nod, my heart pounding out of my chest. Not in nerves. No, I was completely honest when I said I don't give a damn what they think about our relationship. No, my heart is pounding because that's just the effect Aubrey Posen has on me.

"Yeah, I know." I sigh. "I love you." I say, looking her dead in the eyes, hoping that this will be the time she believes me, the time when she _really_ believes me.

"I love you, too." She says hesitantly. Nope. There it is again. That look of uncertainty in her stunning green eyes that once again doubts the truth in my words. But that's okay, because I can wait. As long as she needs, I'll wait for it to sink in that I'm not going to hurt her the way all those jealous bitches, those manipulative sluts, and that controlling asshole all hurt her. Because I don't just love her, I am _in love with her_. And Jesse used to tell me that there's a difference, though I'd always thought he was just speaking as a hopeless romantic because of those rom-coms he loves to watch. But now I know that he was right. I love him. I love Chloe. I love Fat Amy, and Stacie, and Cynthia Rose, and Benji, and Lilly, and Jessica, and Ashley, and Denise. Hell, I even love all the Treblemakers now that they're not jerks under Bumper Allen's shadow.

But I am _in love with_ Aubrey Posen. And now I know the difference.

It kills me that she doesn't believe me when I say I love her, but I am willing to wait as long as it takes.

I sigh again as I step out of the car, then run around as fast as my heels and dress will allow to get to the other door to open it before she can. She smiles slightly, giggling quietly as she steps out.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"You are." She admits.

"Why?"

"It's just funny to see you waddling around in that dress." She giggles.

"What? You mean like this?" I ask, then do my best impression of a penguin waddling, and she tries to stifle her laughter. I'm whipped. I know I'm whipped. And I know that I can no longer claim to be a bad ass, because she's totally "_whipped_ it out of me", as Jesse likes to say. And oddly, I don't mind losing my bad ass cloak with her. I actually enjoy making a fool of myself around her, if it means I get to see her smile, and hear her laugh.

"Oh, don't do that." I protest, and she looks at me in confusion.

"Don't do what?" She asks.

"Not laugh. Don't not laugh. And, yes, Posen, I realize that's a double negative, but you know what I mean."

She frowns. "I hate my laugh."

"I know you do, but I really don't see why, because I love it." I say honestly. "Come on, babe, throw me a bone, will ya? I wanna hear it. Please? Pwetty pwease?" I ask in a very childish voice that always gets a little laughter from her. And, as always, it works. She laughs, a deep, hearty laugh that, if you didn't know her, and you were blind-folded, you'd almost think that it was a man laughing. Or, at least, a teenage boy whose balls hadn't quite dropped yet. "There it is." I say, grinning.

There's nothing, absolutely _nothing_, that I would change about this woman, especially that laugh. I don't know why, it embarrasses the hell out of her, but that laugh actually really turns me on. Maybe it's because I know _I'm_ the cause of the laughter. Maybe it's because, even though she doesn't really believe me when I compliment her, or tell her I love her, I can still make her laugh, and that's enough to keep me happy.

"Promise me something, Bree?" I ask seriously.

"What?" She asks warily.

"Don't ever change." I whisper, and she hesitates, as always, before she nods her head.

"Do I really-?" She begins to ask again, just as we're about to walk into the restaurant, but I cut her off, singing once again.

_When I see your face,_

_There's not a thing that I would change._

_'Cause you're amazing_

_Just the way you are._

_And when you smile,_

_The whole world stops and stares for a while._

_'Cause, girl, you're amazing_

_Just the way you are._

* * *

><p>"By the power vested in me by the state of Georgia, I now pronounce you bride and... I now pronounce you brides." The minister says awkwardly. This was obviously his first lesbian marriage. I don't care, though. I look into the eyes of my wife, my soul mate of three years now, and I whisper the words to her that I've been saying for three years. The words that she still, to this day, doesn't fully believe, but I say them anyway, because it's the truth.<p>

"I love you, Bree." I whisper, hoping, as always, that this will be the one. This will be the time she finally believes me when she says it back.

"I love you, too, Beca." Time freezes right then, as we look into each other's eyes. In that moment, we don't feel the eyes of our friends and family on us. We don't hear everyone inhale sharply, holding their breath as they wait for that first kiss as a married couple to seal the deal. I don't see Chloe standing right behind Aubrey as the Maid of Honor, and I know Aubrey doesn't see Jesse behind me, as my Best Man. Nothing registers between us besides that look in Aubrey's eyes.

The look I've waited three years to finally see. The look that has me in tears of joy when I do see it. The look that tells me that, at last, my dreams have come true. The look that says "I believe you".

All at once, everything clicks into place, because Aubrey finally believes what I've been saying since we first started dating. Aubrey finally believes that I truly am in love with her.

And we don't hear the cheers and screams of delight as our lips finally meet for the first time as Mrs. and Mrs. Mitchell-Posen. Mrs. and Mrs. Mitchsen.

* * *

><p><em>The way you are...<em>

_The way you are..._

_Girl, you're amazing..._

_Just the way you are._

_When I see your face,_

_There's not a thing that I would change._

_'Cause you're amazing_

_Just the way you are._

_And when you smile,_

_The whole world stops and stares for a while._

_'Cause, girl, you're amazing_

_Just the way you are._


End file.
